


He Wore Blue (Velvet)

by nerddowell



Series: Drabbles + ficlets [10]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Era, I love writing cross-dressing Philippe I should do it more, I would blame Tumblr but for once this is all me, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Modern Era, although the second one could equally be read as trans Philippe, cis Philippe? from me? can you even believe?, men in lingerie, there's no specifics given
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerddowell/pseuds/nerddowell
Summary: [Amy Winehouse voice] WHY DON'T YOU COME ON OVER INLINGERIEEEEEE





	He Wore Blue (Velvet)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to everyone who a) knows the Lana Del Rey/Tony Bennett song and b) loves guys in ladies' underwear.

**ONE** – MARCH 1662

His chambers were still warm with the dying embers of the fire, his bathtub lined with linen and still half-full of water when Philippe stood in front of the mirror to paint his lips. His cheeks were lightly rouged; his eyes and lashes carefully lined and darkened with black kohl, smudged with a fingertip to a smoky grey. The cosmetics were lined up, in their delicate silver pots, along the sill as he took the rouge again. This was a routine he’d been through a thousand times before tonight, but tonight was to be special, and therefore, he had to pay especial care to how he would paint himself. He dabbed the brush carefully against the bow of his upper lip, following the delicate curves with a stroke of the soft bristles and tracing his mouth.

The Chevalier had been away for several weeks, something about yet another disagreement with Louis that Monsieur neither particularly wanted to know the details nor, in all honesty, even cared about. Still, with his favourite away from court, he had been forced to indulge the company of Athénaïs and her waspish friends, and he’d grown bored of their gossiping. Of course, once the Chevalier returned, he would hear nothing but court gossip from the man’s golden lips, but he cared far less in that circumstance.

A lock of loose hair was getting tangled in his earring, so he picked up another pearl hairpin from the dressing table and wound it back out of the way. He was dressed – relatively simply for him – in a gown of blue velvet, ruffled at the sleeves and lined with gold satin, with a full skirt and panniers giving the impression of womanly hips. He slipped his feet into a pair of brocade slippers and took a seat on the bed, stretching out against the sheets in an attempt to look artfully – falsely – debauched. The Chevalier needed little in the way of enticement even at the worst of times, but Philippe would suffer a crushed skirt to stoke the fire, so to speak.

The Chevalier’s golden head appeared through the doorway a moment later, his usually bouncing ringlets restrained by a red ribbon and hidden beneath the most enormous and ostentatious hat possible. His gaze nevertheless zeroed in on Philippe immediately, and he crossed the room towards the bed with heels clicking over the parquet floors and a leonine smile on his face. Philippe leaned up to give him a welcoming kiss, the Chevalier’s arm wrapping around his waist, and felt his lips turn up into a smile at the breath of ‘Ah, mignonette…’ that ghosted his ear.

‘You seem to have been rather less than cowed by your exile in the country,’ he said, eyes sparkling, and the Chevalier grinned, biting gently at his earlobe in retaliation for the tease.

‘Nobody in the world has the power to cow me, mignonette, but yourself,’ the Chevalier responded, ‘and I know you value my quick wit and mischief more than that.’

‘Mmm, true,’ Philippe hummed against his cheek, slowly drawing the Chevalier down on top of him, ‘but there’s something more than that I’d like from you in this particular moment, darling…’

‘Oh, I’m sure,’ the Chevalier said with another wicked grin.  
  


* * *

 **  
TWO** – MARCH 2018

As beautiful as the day was outside, Philippe was forced to appreciate it from indoors, since the snow still hadn’t cleared enough from the door of their cottage to allow them to leave. Having taken Louis’ unusually magnanimous gift of a week away in Wales with Chevy at face value, he’d been excited – or as excited as he could be to be miles away from what Chevy called civilisation, with only sheep for company – to have a break away from beneath his brother’s thumb; but Wales had been hit by the worst snowstorm in months, and so they were stuck inside with only the dregs of last night’s wine and each other for company. Naturally, they were both going stir-crazy, and after one too many snide asides, Philippe had banished Chevy to another room before he gutted him with the corkscrew.

He’d caught sight of the little case immediately as he stomped through the bedroom door, and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. Hauling the case over to the bed, he opened it up and spread the contents out carefully on top of the sheets, smoothing out any travel-induced creases with gentle hands and untangling the delicate straps from one another. He’d intended to wear all of this as a present for Chevy’s birthday, upcoming in May, but there was plenty of time to find more. He undressed carelessly, throwing his shirt and jeans aside to step carefully into the new clothes and do his makeup in the wardrobe mirror.

Chevy answered a call to come into the bedroom at first with a grumpy, ‘Why?’ before a more insistent ‘I said, come in here!’ had him clambering from his seat to poke his head around the door.

Philippe was reclining on the bed in a velvet minidress, the hem halfway up his thigh already and climbing quickly as he shifted his position to flash a glimpse of pale flesh above the top of a pair of white stockings, clipped onto something beneath his dress. He rested a patent-heeled foot against the footboard of the bed and smiled at Chevy with hooded eyes, his best ‘come hither’ expression.

Chevy was never one to decline such an invitation.

Joining Philippe on the bed, he pushed the hem of the dress up to reveal delicate robin’s-egg-blue silk panties and a matching garter belt holding the stockings up. He stroked Philippe’s thighs reverently, eyes wide as he drank the whole image in, and twanged the garter elastic gently to watch his lover’s thighs tremble. Philippe took that as a sign to roll over and present the zip to his partner’s fingers. Upon being unzipped, he peeled the dress off carefully and turned back around, allowing Chevy to appreciate the full spectacle.

He seemed somewhat lost for words.

‘Well,’ Philippe said with a smirk, his fingers playing at the corner of Chevy’s mouth, ‘if you’re not going to use this for speaking any time soon…’


End file.
